Promises
by Usbib974
Summary: Season 11 Episode 7 'Plush' tag: The vision Sam had left aftereffects that he hadn't thought about.


**TITLE:** Promises

 **RATING:** K+

 **SUMMARY:** Season 11 Episode 7 'Plush' tag: The vision Sam had left aftereffects that he hadn't thought about.

 **WORDS:** 2016

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So, this, like everything else, popped into my head as I was watching the episode. Thankfully, it was near the end, so I didn't have to pause and type for hours before I could continue watching the episode. This takes place after the boys get home (obviously). Enjoy!

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"Home sweet home."

Dean took off his jacket and threw it on the chair in their living-room-and-study-and-library, massaging his neck as he did so. That ghost did a number on him. Why'd that woman have to have so much random furniture in her house, anyway?

' _Now I probably have a concussion,'_ Dean grumbled to himself. But his worry for his well-being, as always, was dwarfed by his concern for the man that came through the door after him, looking like a kicked puppy. Or, more accurately, like a puppy _he_ had kicked. Okay, he could admit it, he… disliked the fact that Sam was praying to God, because God had never done their family any favors and Dean didn't see why he would start now, even if the Darkness was his sister, which Dean still found highly questionable.

Casting all that aside for the moment, he focused all his attention on his little brother who looked like he wasn't certain about what he should be doing now. The last few weeks had been hectic and the fact that they were getting a break was a little overwhelming. And suspicious. But Dean wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth – he totally was, he just didn't want to jinx their feeble luck yet – so he gratefully accepted the pause of all action and looked forward to relaxing and healing.

"I think I'm just going to shower and turn in for the night, Dean," Sam said quietly from behind him. "That okay with you?" It was a tell of how tired he was when Sam asked him if it was okay for him to rest.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to hit the hay, too. You need anything?" It was their way of asking if the other needed any help. It probably wasn't the most efficient way out there, but it was something.

"Nah, I'm good." What Sam wanted wasn't something that was fair of him to ask of Dean. He went to his room, bidding his brother good night on the way and made sure that door was open, like he always did. He wasn't sure why he did that except they'd never had any privacy from each other before and it seemed weird to close the door on his brother. Not like he had any secrets to keep from Dean, anyway. Sam showered, dressed and then stood at the foot of his bed, unsure about the new part of his nightly ritual. Hesitantly, Sam knelt and prayed to God, for help, for answers, for a sign, for _anything_ to tell them he was still there, was still on their side. Disheartened that his brother didn't believe the visions he got were from God, Sam got into bed and immediately started drifting off. Soon enough, Sam figured out this wasn't normal sleep. This was different. More like lucid dreaming: he knew he was asleep and knew he could wake up whenever he wanted. He also knew that waking up now would be a bad idea because then he would miss something that was vital to winning the war against the Darkness.

And then Sam wasn't sure he could force himself to stay asleep as his visions started. But these weren't the same ones, no. This was something different. It was every nightmare Sam had ever had. Maybe it was the stress he'd felt that day coupled with all the reluctant reminiscing of Hell and Lucifer Sam had done, but these nightmares were horrifyingly vivid and seemed completely real, almost making Sam forget that he was dreaming. He screamed in terror over and over, crying, begging for it to stop. At the end of every nightmare, it was like he was asked ' _do you wish to awaken?'_ and Sam would always almost say yes, but in the end he'd reply ' _no'._ He wasn't sure why, he just knew that if he could make it to the end, he'd know the big secret to winning. So he went on, losing a bit of his sanity with every passing nightmare, getting pulled deeper and deeper into his mental hell. Until he felt himself being shook awake by strong hands gripping his shoulders and heard a familiar voice yelling:

"Wake up, Sam! Come on. Wake. **Up**!"

And Sam woke up, gasping for air, as he got pulled back into reality. He looked around wildly, half afraid that his nightmares were real and would still be there.

"Sam, look at me. Hey, look at me." Dean grabbed Sam's face and held him still until panic and fear filled eyes calmed slightly and met his. "I'm real, not them. That wasn't real, little brother. Calm down." Suddenly, Sam realized that his face was wet with tears and his throat was hoarse. And he knew what had woken Dean up. Then Dean let go and gently tugged Sam to him, hugging him tightly, Sam sobbing into his shoulder, unable to hold it in anymore. Dean whispered words that meant nothing, knowing that his voice alone would calm Sam down, pull him back. Sam cried until he couldn't anymore, exhausted, hiding his face in Dean's neck.

Dean gently put pressure on Sam's shoulder, telling him he wanted to see his face. He looked at Sam's face after he'd cried himself out on Dean's shoulder and was unsurprised to see his brother looking all of five-years-old – wide, wet eyes pulling at Dean's heartstrings, begging him to make the monsters under his bed go away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dean asked quietly. Sam shook his head, _no_ , not wanting to think about what he'd seen just then. He looked like he missed Dean holding him, so Dean pulled him back in, enveloping him in his arms, promising silently that Sam would be safe now. He smiled sadly as octopus-like limbs wrapped around him tightly, as if afraid he would be ripped away. Or that _Sam_ might be ripped away from him. Dean sighed unhappily and stroked his brother's hair. Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder, and they stayed like that for a long time. Then Sam started talking, voice muffled by Dean's shoulder. Sam hung on tighter, afraid that Dean might want to look at him for this part, too, and knew he wouldn't be able to talk about it if that happened. Dean did nothing of the sort, understanding immediately why Sam's hold had tightened and why he didn't want to look at Dean. Dean caressed Sam's hair soothingly, whispering, telling him to relax. Sam did, and continued talking. He told Dean that the nightmares were about everything he'd ever feared – members of his family burning on the ceiling above his head, him unable to do anything, Dean leaving, Dean hating him, his time in the Cage. Sam tightly shook his head when Dean asked if he wanted to share details. Sam stayed silent for a while then continued.

"These weren't normal nightmares, Dean… I could've… I could've stopped them, if I wanted to. I knew that." Dean started in surprise at his brother's confession, so Sam rushed on to explain. "I also knew that if I could hold out until the end I'd find a huge clue which would help us win the war, Dean." Having completed his defense, Sam fell silent, waiting for Dean to speak.

For a moment all was silent, nothing heard except the breathing of the two brothers and the quiet hum of the machinery. Then Dean spoke.

"Sam, you moron," Dean felt Sam start to protest, so he pressed on, cutting him off. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourselfin? Even if you _had_ gotten the information you say is so important," Dean argued, "what would have happened if you'd lost your sanity doing it, huh? The information would be useless then." His voice grew hoarse. "You didn't see yourself, Sammy. You were shakin' like you were having a stroke, but you were screaming and crying and begging-" Dean abruptly cut himself off, cursing.

Sam felt shocked at the amount of fear he heard in Dean's voice. Hesitantly, Sam rubbed Dean's back, trying to soothe his older, worried brother. Dean relaxed a tiny bit but stayed silent.

"What did I say, Dean?" Sam asked him softly. Dean audibly swallowed and, knowing he had no right to hide this from his brother yet still feeling immensely uncomfortable, continued in a choked, hoarse voice. "You were begging for it to stop… pleading… for me to be okay." Dean's voice dropped to a pained whisper by the end, eyes sweeping closed against the tears that burned his eyes, wanting to fall.

Sam's throat tightened as he just held his brother, wanting to take away the pain he'd heard, hating to be the cause of it. Then he started as Dean roughly pushed him away.

"Promise me _right now_ , Sam, that you will _never_ do anything stupid like this ever again," Dean told him, eyes fierce, wet and glistening with tears. Sam tried to protest, but his voice died as Dean's eyes closed against a soul-deep pain that shone through his eyes, tears falling silently. His voice lowered in volume, sounding desperate. "Please, Sammy. Promise me."

And Sam knew that, just as he'd never been able to say no to Dean while his brother looked hurt when they were young, he couldn't do it now when Dean looked like he was being pushed through a bone-grinder. He promised. Dean hugged him again, holding on as tight as Sam had earlier and this time it was Sam who was whispering comfortingly, reassuring Dean he was fine, that Dean had gotten to him in time, that they'd be fine, he'd promised, inwardly hoping that he'd be able to keep his promise.

Dean pulled away once more, some immeasurable amount of time later – and they both knew this would never be spoken of again till the most desperate of times, if then – and was about to leave Sam's bed to go to his own room when Sam's arm shot out of its own accord, grabbing and firmly, desperately holding onto Dean's wrist. He looked at Dean's surprised face pleadingly, silently asking him to stay. Dean swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and nodded, sitting back down. He waited for Sam to lie down and then lay down himself, pulling Sam close and tacitly promising to keep the nightmares away from Sam at least for that night. Sam's eyes, which he tried to keep open, still minutely afraid of the nightmares' return, started drooping, unable to fight the pull of sleep anymore when Dean squeezed him lightly, hugging him closer, whispering "I'll keep you safe, I promise. Go to sleep. G'night, Sammy." And Sam fell into blissful sleep, knowing his brother always kept his promises.

 **END**

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 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I've had this idea stuck in my ever since I watched 'Plush' and I've been trying so hard to get this written, but whenever I sat down to start writing, something or the other always came up. So, I hope you guys liked it and I'd love it if you dropped a review.


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